Love is the Drug
by anonymouslyknown111
Summary: Sherlolly drama. Sherlock and Molly find solace in each other in a dark place. Some drug use and plenty of smut- honestly, adult content! 3 instalments. Enjoy everyone! Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
1. Chapter 1

Hello there everyone! So, a new idea popped into my head so here goes a cheeky Sherlolly. I think it will be a 3 parter. Bit of naughtiness to follow in the next chapter, who doesn't love a bit of smut? Brilliant. Here we go, let me know what you think, reviews always welcome.

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Rain battered the window slats of the flat. The sound was timidly therapeutic to Sherlock's ears as he lay sprawled on the couch. Now past midnight, the only light illuminating Sherlock's face was that of the dim street lights, peeking through the rain into the dingy flat. He brought his left hand up to the crook in his right arm. Delicately stroking the skin beneath his rolled sleeve, his slender fingers caressed his bulging vein.

John left for Glasgow two nights ago, mentioning something about a wedding of one of Mary's, his latest flame, friends. None the less, Sherlock was bored. Lestrade has not called with a new case since his return. Apparently people weren't too keen on hiring a lying consulting detective. Not that it mattered, Sherlock's mind was elsewhere.

It had been 13 days since his return to 221B, to life. He'd spent it largely trying to get John back in his good books. They were slowly returning to being friends, but it was going to take time. Sherlock moped around the house, most of the time in his dressing gown and pajama's, shouting at the TV or fingering the taught strings of his ancient violin. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He could feel his brain rotting. He'd taken up smoking again, failing miserably at hiding it from John, not helping with the forgiveness thing. But Sherlock was ready to take up an old hobby tonight. And he was positively grinning for it.

He'd showered and scored earlier, now relaxed in the dark and laid across the couch, he rolled the syringe in his hand, prepping his vein. Closing his eyes, willing himself to forget his worries, to forget the torture he felt he was enduring every day, he pulled back, and injected.

The beautifully stinging substance coursed through every vein in his body, surging him with ecstasy. He laid there for a minute after flinging the needle into the corner of the room. He was bashfully thought about the last time he was happy, truly happy. It was an unfortunate memory, as it was so wonderful, but so filled with pain. His dying butterfly of a memory. Laying there, his hot back sticking to the leather sofa, he closed his eyes and hugged his body and pictured her stood before him.

"Sherlock, I don't understand." She held the towel close to her dripping body, her mousy wet hair clinging eagerly to her sodden skin, licking each bead of water from her neck and shoulders. His body tensed as his eyes ravished her up and down before meeting her pained eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes pleading with his weak, blue irises.

"It's time for me to leave, Molly." He approached her tentatively and rested his hand on her waist, his thumb wandering to a gentle stroke. Chastely kissing her cheek, he left, picking up his bags and turning away from her, leaving her sweet smelling flat behind him.

That was thirteen days ago.

Everyday that passed since, her face, that last, painful gaze haunted him every minute. For the four months that he spent with Molly, hiding himself from society, he could feel himself grow happier everyday. She recused him. He longed to see her face in the morning, to hear her singing in the shower, or to see her eyes shut after taking that first sip of wine after a long shift at the morgue.

He'd grown to love her.

And loathe himself.

He'd grown up not knowing love, passing it off as something that was a sign of weakness, something that would only bring hurt. But, as much as he wouldn't admit it, John taught Sherlock to find the good in people, to learn affection for other people.

He needed Molly, and he'd never told her. He had remained cold with her whilst he as with her, forcing himself to ignore his head, his body and his desired. He was good at it, he'd spent years avoiding sentiment. He had once walked past her bedroom door, seeing that it was slightly open, he found himself gazing at her sleeping form. Her lips were parted, her breasts rising and falling with her deep breaths. He'd returned to the couch and curled up, processing his feelings, and picturing himself lying next to her.

His phone buzzed, dragging him kicking, screaming and bawling his way out of his beautiful, drug induced daydream. Sitting up quickly, he head span as hie reached for his blackberry.

"Do you want to have dinner this week? -Mx"

His heart skipped several times as he re-read the text several times over. Glancing at the clock, is was now nearly 2am. Molly was clearly drunk, they'd not spoken since he left, and considering her rather forward text, most peculiar for Molly, he deducted she was indeed drunk. Excellent. He thought, his own intoxication now in full swing. Grinning coyly, he hit reply;

"Dinner would be fine. Or a drink, when you're free, of course. -SH" He hit send, two can play at that game Miss Hooper. As he predicted, her drunken mind replied almost immediately.

"Love the idea of drinks. I'm free most evenings, as I'm sure you know. -Mx" He smirked, luring her in;

"Shame you weren't around this evening. John's away, tonight would've been perfect for drinks. -SH" He could practically hear Molly kick herself furiously.

"Is it too late now? -Mx" He chuckled, oh Molly, you're butter in my hands.

"I'll have your wine ready, Miss Hooper -SH"


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two  
Thanks for your feedback so far, I hope I don't disappoint! have just finished chapter 3 (the final instalment), i'm going to see how this chapter fares and post the 3rd later if y'all want?! Enjoy!

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With that, Sherlock attempted to sit up again, this time without rushing and Inducing a blackout. This had been the first time he'd regretted injecting.

Standing like bambi, he composed himself and began sourcing a bottle of wine and two clean glasses smiling to himself when he searched the cupboard under the sink, his hand grasped the neck of the bottle. A Rioja, John's 'emergency date' wine. _What a lady killer._ Placing the bottle and glasses on a tray and taking them over to the coffee table, Sherlock sat and waited. Glancing at the clock, only seven minutes had passed since his last text. _Where is she?_ He deduced, Molly won't have had company in her pokey flat, she'd be in town. Her favourite bar was approximately thirteen minutes away from the flat. This time of night, she'd get a cab. _Six minutes._ It can't come quick enough.

Sherlock stood up, why was he thinking like this? Surely it must've been the drugs. He knew he felt stirrings for her when they lived together, but he put them down to being primal, but he felt positively ecstatic to see her again, to smell her.

_Three minutes._ He didn't have long. Attempting to straighten up the flat a bit, he cast away his earlier experiments, wiped the surfaces in the kitchen and straightened the cushions on the sofa. He stood up, hands on hips, blowing a curl away from his face when he heard a gentle tap on the door. He'd left the front door open so she knew to come straight up. _My clever girl,_ he thought, a coy smile spreading on his face. He approached the door, trying furiously to omit the excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

"Good evening Miss Hooper. Or should I say good morning?" He stood aside and ushered her in. Her cheeks flushed with alcohol, her mascara smudged a little on her right lid. But my god, she looks stunning. On removing her coat, he saw her red shift dress clinging to her. Electricity sparked through him when his hand brushed hers, as he chivalrously took her coat.

He gestured to the sofa, offering her a seat as he scooped up the wine glasses effortlessly. He waltzed over to her, trying hard not to stumble, his drugs having taken full effect on him. Handing Molly her wine, he watched her from behind his own glass as she took a sip, noticing her lips were already tinged with wine from her night with her girlfriends. The silence that surrounded them wasn't awkward, but Sherlock was pleasantly surprised when Molly shifted and broke the silence.

"Sorry, erm, Sherlock for coming round." She picked at the rim of her glass, looking at her busy hands. Cheeks flushed, eyes refusing to rise. She continued;

"In fact I should probably go." She stood up, obviously too quickly as she steadied herself by slamming her glass on the coffee table. Bent over, trying to hide her drunken giggle, whispering 'oops' to herself. Feeling a silence fall over the flat, and feeling Sherlock's eyes fixated on her arse. She did not stand up.

His eyes coursed over the petite curve of her arse, the red dress clinging flush against her skin. It was at arms length, if he just reached out, he could mould his hand to her curve and see if the ridge in the dress really was a thong. He clenched his jaw, trying to subdue the ret hot fire that coursed through his veins, through his body.

After what seemed like an eternity, Molly stood up and smoothed her dress down. Cheeks matching the outfit, she excused herself to the toilet.

He watched her totter out the room in her heels, and sat with his swimming thoughts. Was this really him? Thinking these thoughts? Was it not the drugs that fuelled his pure lust towards his pathologist? He formed a plan of action.

Moly went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her, worried that she may spontaneously combust under her hot cheeks.

She sat on the edge of the bath, relishing the cool porcelain against the back of her thighs, she collected herself. She was definitely still drunk, why not play it off and see what happens? Standing up, feeling a new wave of confidence with her alcoholic buzz returning to her, she nodded at herself in the mirror before returning to the sitting room. She had a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Part three

**Warning**: lots of smut in this chapter, just warning you all now! Enjoy, I hope you've all enjoyed the story!

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Molly returned to the living room, hearing the screech of Sherlock's violin before she saw him. The confidence she had rustled up in the bathroom had now gone, the colour rouge returned to her cheeks faster than she could blink. Her mouth gaped, her feet froze to the spot, as she saw Sherlock standing in the glorious moonlight, quite haphazardly playing his violin, but now was shirtless. His chalky skin glistened, she saw the defined muscles of his back, smooth yet hard pointing down to his tight arse, still, unfortunately clad in his suit trousers. Molly closed her mouth, which was now more dry than the Sahara desert, to bite her lip, in order to stop herself from rushing over to him and bite his back.

It was Sherlock's turn to feel the gaze on his back. He stopped playing and threw the blasted thing on the chair, he always struggled playing when high. Aware that Molly was gazing at him, he smiled and turned his head, catching her eye for the first time this evening.

"See anything you like, Miss Hooper?" He smirked, only half teasing.

"God yes." It slipped out before she could control it, the words hung in the air, reverberating from Sherlock's deep laugh. She blushed furiously, violently.

"I am so sorry, that was, I mean.. Oh shit, Sherlock that was a joke I'm sorry." She continued to mumble and fidget on the spot, subconsciously running her hands down her sides. Deciding to resist no longer, Sherlock stepped towards her, until they were only a foot apart, he decided to see how far she would bend before she _broke_.

"Why are you sorry, Molly?" He gazed into her eyes, trying to deduce her every sordid thought.

"Erm, I don't know.." He was always curious as to how he managed to have this effect on her.

"What was it, in particular, that you saw and liked?" He rolled every word off his tongue, annunciation every consonant, biting at every word.

"I wasn't erm, expecting to see you topless." She was nothing, he was her truth serum and she would gladly give up her dirtiest secrets.

"Ahh, and why are you blushing, seeing me topless?" He was now so close to her, she was certain she could taste his breath in the air.

"You're.. Well you're quite nice to look at."

"Nice?"

"Well, a bit more than nice I suppose.. Erm.." She fumbled over her words, before being silenced by his hand taking hers and placing it on his rock like chest.

"Tell me Molly Hooper, what you think is so _nice_, about my body."

She gasped and tentatively moved her hand to his collar bone, glancing quickly at his face, she saw his look of hunger and knew exactly what she was doing.

"Well, your skin is soft, it's tough, but soft, moulded wonderfully to your bones." She brought her other hand up and rested it on his chest, mirroring her other hand, she slid them down his pectorals, scraping her nails gently down over his nipples. She didn't know what happened first, his deep, illicit groan, or his hands resting themselves on her hips.

"I think overall your body is.. Beautiful Sherlock, _oh_.." She stopped talking when she felt his lips sink onto her neck, his hands pulling her taught to his body. His teeth nipping teasingly at the sensitive skin on her neck, it was his breath on her ear that made her shiver.

"My turn." His lips never leaving her neck, his hands clasped around the zipper on her dress, he grazed her back as his pulled it down.

"Personally, I think the way your skin tastes is divine." Her dress pooled around her ankles, leaving her standing only in her black lace thong and heels.

"No bra, Miss Hooper? Perhaps, 'on the pull' you were tonight?"

"For you Sherlock, I always want you." She became breathless as his hands trailed u p her body, cupping her breast and feeling aroused at her hard nipples.

"Mm I'm sure you do."

His lips circled hers like vultures around a carcass, but she had had enough. Grabbing him by his neck, she brought their lips together to a crescendo. Neither holding back, his tongue soon began to play with hers. Pressing her body against his, feeling her nipples against his torso and her leg wrap around his calf, he let his needs take over.

He grabbed her arse and pulled her up so her legs were around his waist, being sure to grind his hard cock against her.

"Why the thong?" He managed to breath between fiery kisses.

"Why not? Don't you like it?"

He replied by swiftly ripping them from her. She laughed at his urgency, meeting his smile with her lips. His cock now aching with lust, she felt his hands tug off his trousers and boxers, it was all she could do, murmur his name before being pressed up against the cold wall of 221B Baker Street.

"I want to fuck you Molly, let me.. Christ." He was begging, his left hand holding her steady against his body and his right starting teasingly playing with her wet clit.

"Oh shut up Sherlock." She put her hands in his hair as she lowered herself onto his cock, relishing every inch that filled her. He rolled his head back into her hands as her nails scraped his scalp.

They moved together, finding their sync quickly, their lips magnetising together again.

Molly's eyes closed as she thought to herself, _here I am, drunk, being fucked against a wall by the most perfect man.._

"Molly open your eyes, look at me." His voice stirred her, awaking in time to feel herself shudder around him, Sherlock following soon after with a deep growl.

They stood still against the wall, unmoved and their clammy bodies panting together, regulating one another's heartbeats.

She didn't realise how much her legs ached in this position, she needed to climb off him but he was still holding her to him, tightly.

"Sherlock, put me down sweetheart" she whispered in his ear, placing a gentle kiss on his lobe. Although it took a few moments, he let her go, sliding off him and standing in front of him as he towered over her.

"Sherlock?.. What's wrong?" She looked up into his face, she saw him crying. Cupping his face in her hands, thumbing away the tears that rolled down his cheeks, she saw him try to speak, opening his mouth but words failing him.

His eyes were rolling back, he brought a hand to the wall again for support, nothing but sounds escaping his mouth. Concern filled post-coital Molly, changing from sex goddess to Dr Hooper within an instant;

"Sherlock, lets put you in bed." He was still crying, but became floppy as he draped himself around her shoulders. They got to his bedroom, rather erratically and she helped him slump onto his bed. She covered him with a sheet before realising she too, was stark naked. As she grabbed one of his shirts and threw it over herself, he continued to mumble incomprehensible dribble and soon sleep seemed to take over him. She sat by him, stroking his moist curls from his eyes and feeling sleep trying to win her over also.

Seeing that he was settled and alright, she fought impeding sleep and walked back into the living room, in hope to clear up any evidence John may find in the morning. Bing careful to shut Sherlock's bedroom door, she flicked on the ceiling light and examined the room. _What a shit-tip._

She made a start by washing their two wine glasses and putting the bottle in the kitchen cupboard, before collecting their clothes from the floor. As she went to pick up Sherlock's shirt from the floor in front of the window, she saw a box underneath the soft silk. Pausing to decide whether or not to open it, she picked it up in her hands. It was old, battered and well used. The Metallic tin shone beneath the elegant writing on the case. _Love_.

"MOLLY!" Sherlock's booming voice echoed through her, shocking her and causing the box to fall out of her hand. Clutching the clothes to her, she forgot about the rattling box and went back to the bedroom, flicking the light off behind her. The box can wait until the morning.

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That's it everyone! Hope you enjoyed, any questions/queries anything the ask away. Thankyou for taking the time to read, hope you enjoyed it!


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